


Written in a Cabaret

by bittersugxr



Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1940's au, F/F, F/M, Implied Relationships, Might have to up the rating later, also the pairings, characters might add up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 02:36:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2411831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersugxr/pseuds/bittersugxr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the year 1948, A. Tancred (also known as Arthur T. Kirkland) experiences the author's most feared mental state, a Writer's Block. In an attempt to rid of it, he travels to The United States of America for inspiration. When visiting, he develops his own real life novel with an auburn haired burlesque beauty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if any slang, devices or other events so happen to be inaccurate to the time period (1940’s). I tried my hardest to make it as precise as I can.

A series of written words―physical cogitations, if you will. An author's mind must let their thoughts flow fluidly onto paper. Poetic, rhythmic wording should be important for a famous writer.

  
As of I, A. Tancred (which is my pen name), proceed to try to please my audience with such words.  
With writing a story, a person creates a whole new world for people who they have not even spoken to.  
In the year 1948 people need to have some amusement for what happened only a few years ago. They need to be uplifted, and forget about the actual world. The Great War takes a toll on everyone a different way, and making something to distract one’s self from the hardships they have faced is what I enjoy doing.

  
My first book, that had been published during the war, had been a best seller in Britain. Fortunately, I had finished it before London had been bombarded by that retched attack. Soon after the World War had slowly inched toward the end, America had soon found of its existence and later it had been known by the world.  
Of course, I had been extremely ecstatic for the success of my book.  
Around eight years have passed since my breakthrough novel, and now a second book is in the making. I have not yet chosen a title for it, or any other major characters except for the main protagonist, but I hopefully will get this book done in the next year.

 

One sentence, when writing a novel, can either lead to an author’s creativity to flow like the current of a rapid water river, or be stilled like the growth of plants in the mid of winter. For my case, it had been the latter.

 

_“The cerulean gaze of the individual locked with his.”_

 

A stunted growth for my writing, this one sentence had caused. It was not that I could not find the right word, it was more of, I did not know how the character’s development would go along. My boy did not even have a lover, and I had planned that she would be the most important plot developer in the story.  
I had not intended for myself to groan outwardly, but it came out almost unconsciously.

 

I could hear the constant ticking of my clock. It was rhythmic, and the sound would usually sooth my nerves, but for once it had not. The clock’s noise kept on reminding me of the time passing toward the deadline. The anxiety in me slowly rising with each

 

“ _tick . . . tock . . . tick . . . tock . . ._ ”

 

It was driving me mad.

 

A cup of Earl Grey usually calmed my nerves. It was my staple for a hot drink, and none other could replace.  
The tea leaves’ fragrant aroma almost immediately invaded my senses as I opened the tin. As I was about the sprinkle the tea into the pot, my telephone had rang.  
The blasted thing, I had forgotten to take it off its stand so I would not receive calls.  
I had quickly put a few more leaves into the kettle before answering the rings.

  
“Hello? Kirkland residence.”  
“Is this my favorite older cuz’?” The voice on the other end had said with a prominent American accent.  
“Alfred?” I sighed out with some exasperation, “What do you need this time?”

 

My aunt and uncle, around 1924, had moved to the United States of America for a promise of better work there. A year after, they had given birth to a child. He was only three years younger than I, but he always acted like a child with a lot of sugar in his system. Another thing to note about Alfred, he constantly bothers me over the phone. I am not certainly sure why, but it might be because, when I visited him at a young age, I resembled his father quite a lot―blonde hair, green eyes, fair skin. He and my father are brothers, yet I resembled him more than my own parent (I constantly suspect my mother for cheating on my father with my uncle, it would not be surprising).

 

“Aww!” He had said in an almost affectionate tone, but it had come out more as a whine. “Can’t I just talk to my favorite cuz’?”  
“No.”  
“What’s buzzin’? How’s your life, Arthur?”  
He was being rather persistent, this was not all that foreign, though. But, all in all, I really needed to get back to my novel.  
“Alfred . . . I really need to get back to a book I am trying to write, so if you please-”  
“You write books?” His tone energetic, “Since when? Are ya’ tryin’ to compete with A. Tancred? ‘Cause I wouldn't think you’d have a chance.”  
Alfred was not aware of me being A. Tancred. The only person I had told about my pen name was my father, telling my mother might be a mistake for I do not trust her all that much.

  
I cleared my throat before speaking again, “I am going through a rather rough Writer’s Block so I would appreciate it if I can go back to thinking―I also need to make my tea.”  
I was just about to hang up the phone before he suddenly yelled into my ear.

  
“WAIT!” He exclaimed. I cringed slightly from his sudden change in volume.  
“How ‘bout I send ya flyin’ to good ol’ New York? I haven't seen you in forever, and maybe seeing new scenery around ya’ will stimulate those creative juices.”

  
There was a silence slowly bellowing into my side of the line; thick fog of uncertainty, and the soft rays of yellow from the absolutely piercing through.  
This trip did sound like a fine idea to go on. Maybe seeing new things might be a good idea for my Writer’s Block.

  
“I’ll pay for the expense . . .” Alfred had piped up almost timidly from the other end.

  
The silence had stretched on for what seemed like an hour, a few incompetent sounds coming past my lips once in a while.  
“I have to think about it.” I finally said.  
“It’s okay, cuz’, when you make up your mind just give me a ring, okay?”  
I hummed out my reply before hanging up on him.

 

I let out a sigh, folding my arms in front of my chest. Perhaps my decision to take that trip would not be so hard after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! finally got to put up this chapter! Not really eventful, kind of a filler chapter, but hopefully in the next one it will be more exciting!

The decision I had to make―being either traveling to the U.S. or staying in my present place―had been rather hard to make. First of all, having no choice but to stay with my cousin for two months would be such a burden to my nerves, and sanity. Also, a different country meant a different way of living. How would I be able to keep up with the fast paced world of the states? Alfred had assured me that he would support me through and through on this trip, but I was not so sure with myself.

"Oh, come on Artie." the Scottish accent of my older brother laid thick on his speech. "Don't be such a wimp. Ye gotta live a little, aye?" He spoke over chattering voices on his end, he might be at a pub binging on ale or scotch. I let out a heavy sigh, his point was valid, a bit blunt, but a good one. Sometimes, I need to try new things and get out of my routine cycle. Although a nagging in the back of my mind told me not to submit so easily.

"I-I . . . I understand, but―"

"Ay! No but's! Ye called me for my opinion, right? Well, here is my opinion: go to America. Ya' need the freedom and liberty in yer lungs." A bit of playfulness could be detected in his voice.

"I see where you're coming from Ali', but-"

"Stop with your but's Arthur!" he had exclaimed, a bit suddenly for my ears since i jumped back the slightest, "Ye' be going to the U.S. whether ye like it or not! I won't have my wee brother forever locked in his shabby apartment for the rest of his life without tastin' the world beyond the sea!"

I had sighed, arguing with my older brother would be futile. I thought for a second, if I could just lie to him about going to the states and stay home instead, but I figured that pest of a younger brother I have would probably report to Alistair since he visits too frequently in my apartment; it seems that Jack and him are in some sort of cahoots with each other when it comes to my socializing or life in general.

"Fine..." i reluctantly said. "I guess I should thank you for the push."

"No problem, brother." In the background, yelling could be heard. Something along the lines of "Ali, get over here!".

"What was that?"

"Nothin', I got ta' go now, bye!"

"Bye." Then the line abruptly ended. Strange. Perhaps that had been one of his friends.

I had made a quick phone call to Alfred, informing him that I had accepted his invitation (I had not heard him any happier).

"Fantastic! Oh, just you wait Artie! I have great plans for when ya' visit!" Alfred exclaimed through the other line.

"Hopefully they won't involve anything illegal?"

"I-uh . . . Hey! Don't worry yourself with anythin'. Just be sure that you'll enjoy yourself when you come over." A small sigh had escaped past my lips, eyes rolling along with the breath.

"As you say my dear cousin." The words coming out as sarcastic as I could muster, "Well, I've got to go. Need to figure out what I should bring on the trip. Oh! When is my trip going to take place?"

"Hmm, how's about early September?"

"Sounds wonderful. Farewell."

"Talk to ya' later, Artie!"

A small meow, and a nudge at my leg had pushed itself instantly as i hung up the phone. I had almost forgotten about King, my Scottish fold tom. He had followed me back to my flat a few months ago and would not leave. He was a moody, lazy, demanding cat, though was nice company on lonely days. He purred at my ankles, continuing to persist in an almost charming manner.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, a bit tired. King continued his ministrations.

"Should I get you some tuna?" At the sound of the fish, he immediately perked up, purring louder than before. I scoffed, standing up and headed to my small kitchen.

I went for my cabinet, grabbing the can and opening it for the tabby. He almost ran over the damn thing with his excitement when I set it down. "You just had your dinner, and you're still seemingly starving?" I remarked. King ignored me, expected from a cat, and ate the tuna vigorously. I shook my head smirking, going back to my desk with my hands in my pockets.

Perhaps when I leave I could have Jack look after him since he loves to hang around in my apartment like some sort of parasite. Or perhaps Owen, our oldest brother in the family, would be a better choice. I mentally slapped myself. I should leave the thought aside, I had heavier things to set my anxiety over.

I sat back down at my desk, groaning at the sight of the paper in my typewriter. The line seemingly mocked me as it just sat there idly.

_"The cerulean gaze of the individual locked with his."_

I dug deep into my thoughts, wringing my imagination for what should happen next, but nothing had come to me. How was I going to make this woman? For god's sake I hardly even had any experience with a lover! What was I thinking of promising a deep and unforgettable romance to rival even Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_? I might have as well cursed myself.

I groaned exaggeratedly, bending over and running my fingers through my already disheveled hair. How will I please my audience and withhold my new found fame if I disappoint everyone with a flop after my first novel that had such great success and feedback?

“Well, that is the reason you’re going to America, you twit.” I mumbled to myself. I leaned back in my chair, sinking down into it like a bratty child getting scolded by an adult. "Oh, how I wish this trip will be worth my time and effort."


End file.
